Work Text:
“Shouldn’t you do something about that?”
Keiji looks up from his textbooks to see Kenma eyeing his phone from across the table. Keiji has turned his phone down to silent, but the screen still lights up every time he gets a text message. This is apparently disturbing Kenma’s concentration during their study time, as he diligently plays games on his phone hidden behind a propped up textbook.
Grabbing his own phone from the table, Keiji unlocks it quickly. Fifteen new messages from an unknown number. Well, not too unknown. This same person has been messaging Keiji’s phone in error for the past month, and Keiji is starting to regret his initial decision to simply ignore them. The mystery texter hasn’t gotten the message yet, that they have the wrong number. Kenma is of the firm belief that Keiji should just send a quick “you’ve got the wrong number” text and be done with it. But that would be so rude. Keiji’s already been stringing this person along for almost a month now by saying nothing. If only he had said something at the beginning.
Keiji hesitates before opening the conversation. It seems like the mystery texter is getting anxious, asking if the intended recipient is angry with him, or if he’s having a bad time up at his grandmother’s old house, or what. The only information Keiji has gleaned from all the messages he’s gotten so far is that the intended recipient’s name is “Kou”, and he (? there have been a lot of “dude”s, “bro”s, and “man”s in the messages) is away from his usual residence (possibly in Tokyo, as the mystery texter has the same area code as Keiji), because he has to help his uncle clean out his now deceased grandmother’s house. And the mystery texter is feeling abandoned and envious, still having to go to class and practice. Keiji isn’t sure what sort of practice yet, or if the classes are high school, or college level, like him. There’s enough swearing in the messages that he’s confident the sender can’t be any younger than high school.
“What are they saying now?” Kenma asks, blinking slowly at Keiji. He’s clearly tired, and it’s late enough Keiji feels justified in packing up the textbooks and note paper and getting a late supper. Maybe even watch a movie. It is Friday after all, and it will make Kenma happy.
Keiji sighs and stretches, and begins to sort his schoolwork into neat piles. Kenma perks up a little, and follows suit, although he keeps his eyes trained on Keiji, waiting for an answer.
“See for yourself,” Keiji finally replies, sliding his phone across the table to Kenma.
Kenma eagerly abandons his attempts at tidying his side of the table, picking up Keiji’s phone and scrolling through the new messages. “Their messages are getting more grammatically correct the more worried they are. You should really text them back. They seem really worried about this “Kou” person.”
Keiji sighs again, bustling around their small apartment. He fusses with his desk, dusting his computer a little and pointlessly adjusting some papers, before turning to face Kenma’s calculating golden eyes.
“Fine,” Keiji finally says, holding out his hand. “Give me the phone then.”
Kenma places Keiji’s phone in his palm with an almost challenging expression on his face. It almost seems a shame to ruin the mystery. Seeing the familiar messages have become part of Keiji’s life, and he secretly likes the intrigue and thrill of not knowing who the other person is. Once they know that Keiji isn’t who they’re trying to contact, the fun will be over. Although he probably shouldn’t be describing getting wrong number texts as “fun”. It says rather too much about how much real fun Keiji has on a regular basis. Keiji’s fingers hover over the empty text box, reading and rereading the last few messages from the mystery texter.
bro come on
just like send me a 1 letter response
Are you upset?
Like, with me?
Is your uncle being really shitty?
Kou, just a one character message dude
I don’t wanna get sappy here but I’m pretty fuckin worried
???????
Keiji hesitates, looking back up at Kenma. “What should I say?”
“You have the wrong number,” Kenma replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“But after all this time, it just seems-” Keiji cuts himself off as his phone lights up with another incoming message.
Bokuto Koutaro you absolute bitch
I’ll phone you if I have to, don’t think that I won’t bro
Long distance charges be damned
“The mystery texter is threatening to call now. Wait… Bokuto Koutaro… that name sounds familiar.”
“Why, who is that?”
“It’s the name of the intended recipient, I think. Bokuto…” Keiji trails off, trying to remember where he’s heard the name before.
Kenma pouts and pokes Keiji in the arm. “Don’t get distracted, send the text already. I’m hungry, I want stir-fry.”
“Why don’t I get started on that now, and I’ll text this person later, okay?” Keiji smiles down at Kenma, who is looking sullen and still pinching the sleeve of Keiji’s shirt. Appealing to Kenma’s hunger is sure to work, and Keiji’s pretty hungry himself at this point. “I thought we could watch a movie with dinner, since it’s Friday. Why don’t you pick one out?”
“Alright. You’re still not off the hook though,” Kenma says, indicating Keiji’s phone.
Keiji is just finishing making dinner when he hears shuffling in the front hall, and the sound of the front door opening and closing. He barely has a moment to wonder what’s going on, before Kema appears silently at the kitchen doorway, a blank look on his face.
“Tooru is here,” he says, and Oikawa Tooru appears behind him, disheveled from the wind outside, in a pullover and jeans. Clearly not one of his more glamorous ensembles, meaning he probably left his apartment in a hurry.
“Heeey! Ooh, what’s that?” Oikawa sweeps past Kenma to look over Keiji’s shoulder at their dinner. “Smells good!”
Keiji can read between the lines well enough. “Hello Oikawa-san. I suppose you’ll be staying for dinner?”
He is staying for dinner, as it turns out, although Keiji can’t really find it in him to be upset at this unscheduled visit, as Oikawa paints such a pitiful picture of him being ejected from his apartment after a fight with Iwaizumi. It is difficult to tell exactly how bad this fight with his roommate is, because Oikawa takes such great pains to conceal any sign of weakness or negative emotion, making him rather difficult to read. Kenma is a little better at reading Oikawa, and it seems serious enough that he changes the movie they’re going to watch to one of Oikawa’s favourites.
Keiji would also feel a little odd barring Oikawa from their apartment, since his father employs all of them at one of his flower shops. It seems like an unnecessary risk, being so rude to his employer’s son, even though Keiji has enough faith in Oikawa’s character that he doubts Oikawa would try to get them fired over something so petty.
Oikawa manages to settle down and quiet down a little, once given food and the distraction of the movie, and Keiji relaxes, content that the fuss is over. Maybe Kenma has even forgotten about the mystery texter in all the commotion. Keiji knows he should really do something about the situation, but he’s hoping eventually the issue will resolve itself when this Bokuto Koutaro returns from their grandmother’s house and reunites with their friend, and then all will be well. How long does it take to clear out a house anyways? Maybe this person’s grandmother was a hoarder.
Keiji slides his phone out of his back pocket, where he had stashed it earlier in the hopes that Kenma would forget all about it when it’s out of sight. He is about to surreptitiously scroll through the messages again when the phone lights up with an incoming call. It is not from either of his parents, and the only other two people who would call him are sitting beside each other, transfixed by the movie playing on Keiji’s laptop. It is the mystery texter.
“Oh dear. The mystery texter is calling me,” Keiji says without thinking, forgetting that he’s trying to not remind Kenma of the whole affair.
Kenma pauses the movie, and Oikawa shuffles over to Keiji to look over his shoulder again. Oikawa is also somewhat aware of the existence of the mystery texter, although he is of the opinion that Keiji should pretend to be the intended recipient, to trick the mystery texter. He grins at Keiji, nudging his arm.
“Pick up then!” Oikawa stage whispers, bouncing excitedly beside Keiji.
Kenma looks over at them, eating the stray almonds in his bowl. “Pick it up or they’ll hear your voicemail.”
“Pick up, pick up!! I’ll do it if you won’t!”
“Wouldn’t that be worse, them finding out because of your voicemail?”
Keiji looks between the piercing gold and imploring brown of his friends’ eyes, and returns his gaze to his still ringing phone. He takes a deep breath and answers the call.
“Hello?”
“Kou! Wait, Kou, is that you?”
“I’m very sorry, but it isn’t. You have the wrong number… actually you have for a while now. I’m the person you’ve been texting, not whoever you thought you were texting. I’m really very sorry, I thought it would be best if I just ignored your messages, but it just spiraled out of control. I’m really very sorry if I’ve caused you any inconvenience. Good luck with your friend, I hope they’re alright.”
Then Keiji hangs up, looking at Oikawa and Kenma in something akin to impatience. “Well? Start the movie up again, I’ve done it,” he snaps.
Oikawa is about to say something, but Kenma starts the movie silently, effectively cutting him off. Keiji can tell from Kenma’s expression that the subject isn’t completely dropped.
The rest of the movie goes by in a blur, and Keiji is barely paying attention. He almost… misses the mystery texter already. It was sort of nice, to imagine having more than two friends. Three if he counts Iwaizumi. He probably shouldn’t though… maybe two and a half would be the most accurate. Keiji stares at the old text messages, barely registering Kenma plying Oikawa for his extra almonds. The evening had started so well, Keiji had been in a good mood, looking forward to watching a movie with Kenma. Even when Oikawa showed up, it was fine. Now, Keiji’s contentment has vanished, replaced with a sort of dissatisfaction, at how the whole mystery texter debacle ended. It’s over now, so he might as well delete all the old messages. But he can’t. Keiji never considered himself particularly sentimental, yet here he is.
Kenma throws him significant looks the rest of the evening, but doesn’t bring up the mystery texter again. Oikawa insists upon doing the dishes, since he imposed himself on them, and Kenma is somehow roped into drying. Though he could use the free time to get some writing done, Keiji decides to go to bed early instead. He fixes up a third mat for Oikawa, who will no doubt be staying the night, and gets out the extra toothbrush. When Kenma and Oikawa are settling into bed, Keiji pretends to be asleep.
The best part about Oikawa sleeping over is the morning after. Keiji is not a morning person, and Kenma is not really in favour of being awake at any time of the day. Oikawa, however, is incredibly energetic and fresh-faced in the morning, and all too happy to prepare for breakfast for Keiji and Kenma when they finally stumble into the kitchen like zombies. Better yet, Oikawa is not the kind of horrible morning person that forcibly wakes all around them, confident that everyone shares their enthusiasm for being awake at five in the morning.
Keiji wakes last, and finds Kenma and Oikawa chatting in their small kitchen, the picture of domestic bliss. They eat breakfast in relative silence, Oikawa respectful of his barely awake companions. They all have their shift, so they walk down to the flower shop together, Oikawa in an odd amalgam of Keiji and Kenma’s clothes, in black skinny jeans (Keiji) and a slightly too small light pink t-shirt (Kenma). It has little red strawberries all over it, and is so small it shows off Oikawa’s midriff. A little reckless on such a chilly day, but recklessness is apparently Oikawa’s natural state of being, when he has no Iwa-chan to nag him. Oikawa complains about being cold all the way to the store, and Keiji’s honestly a little sour that his jeans look so good on Oikawa. Kenma has laid claim to Oikawa’s dark green pullover from yesterday, so has nothing to complain about, besides the odd grunt of malcontent at a lost level in his game. Kenma seems to have a strange desire to steal other people’s clothes, in fact Keiji has never seen him buy an article of clothing. He would think that Kenma has stolen all his clothes from friends, but Kenma probably doesn’t have enough friends to do that without them noticing.
Their clothes are quickly covered up by their aprons as they open the shop, with the logo on the chest of a plant pot and the little sprout in it. Kenma and Oikawa bustle around the store, freshening up the displays and cutting off any unsightly or dead pieces. Keiji sits behind the counter and checks the messages on the shop phone, taking down information on the notepad about any orders. Then Kenma flips around the sign, and the shop is open. Oikawa is on backroom duty, and he makes an exaggerated frown as he waves to them, going into the back room alone to fill orders.
The day progresses peacefully enough, customers coming and going at a steady rate. There is a lull in the flow of customers at around three, and Keiji decides to check on Oikawa. Kenma is helping an elderly man choose a bouquet, but other than that, the store is empty. Keiji peers through the door to the back, keeping one foot in the store, in case there’s a sudden flood of customers.
“How are you faring?” he asks Oikawa, who perks up from his task of de-thorning roses.
“Oh, fine, fine. What time is it?”
“Quarter past three.”
Oikawa gets a sly look on his face, and Keiji regrets checking up on him. “Any word from the mystery texter?”
Keiji only manages to get out a bereaved sigh before he hears a throat clearing pointedly in the store behind him. Without another word to Oikawa, he pulls himself back through the door, to come face-to-face with a customer, looking at him expectantly over the counter. Keiji can’t help but stare for a moment at the person’s hair, which is somehow both falling across their face and sticking straight up into the air.
Keiji forces himself to meet the person’s dark eyes, their eyelids drooping and eyes sunken in deep sockets. Well, one eye at least, the other is almost entirely hidden behind disheveled black hair. He’s about to apologize, both for keeping the customer waiting, and secretly for ogling that ridiculous hair for so long, but the person speaks first.
“Wow! You’re really… uh, I don’t know, is beautiful too much? Like, we just met,” the customer laughs, ruffling the back of his hair almost sheepishly. “But you’re really beautiful.”
Heat rises in Keiji’s face at the sheer openness and honesty of the person’s face. And he knows the heat will show on his face, it’s difficult to get away from a full-face blush like his.
“I guess that was too much, huh? I’m Kuroo.” He leans back, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. His grin is very sly and wolfish, but his eyes look tired and soft.
Keiji realizes he’s expected to respond, and manages to speak without stumbling over his words too much. “Akaashi Keiji. I- thank you, I guess.” He looks down at the counter to break eye contact, and remembers that this Kuroo person is in fact a customer. “Is there something I can help you with, Kuroo-san?”
“Right, of course. Yeah, I need to get flowers for a funeral. I mean, not just a bouquet, I need like, flower catering. You guys do events, right?”
“Yes we do. I have the form here, if you could fill it out,” Keiji says, reaching under the counter and procuring the correct form. Back in the routine of the shop, he can feel the heat in his cheeks cooling. He watches Kuroo fill out the form, not paying much attention to what he’s writing, but to his long fingers and broad palms. Kuroo needs to keep his hands moisturized better though, the skin of his knuckles is cracked and bleeding in places. Keiji tsks and already has Oikawa’s hand cream out from under the counter before he realizes what he’s doing.
Kuroo looks up when the tube hits the counter beside the form, glancing between it and Keiji, smiling in a confused sort of way. “What’s this?”
Caught out, Keiji might as well go with honesty. “I noticed your hands are very dry. Are you finished with the form? Put some hand cream on.”
Keiji takes the form and tucks it neatly where it belongs, too embarrassed to look it over properly. Kuroo laughs again, and obeys Keiji, uncapping the hand cream and rubbing it over his abused knuckles.
“Satisfied?” he asks, showing his hands to Keiji, who nods sharply, still a little embarrassed. “Thanks. Hey, you’re not in high school or anything, are you?”
Taken off guard by the odd question, Keiji shakes his head mutely, before speaking. “No. No, I’m in my second year of university.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I’d been hitting on a highschooler this whole time. I’m in my third year, myself. What are you studying?”
“Law. How will you be paying?”
“Cheque, actually. I’m just running an errand as a favour for my friend’s mom, and alas, she doesn’t trust me with her credit card,” Kuroo says mournfully, a hand placed over his heart.
Keiji lets out the smallest huff of laughter at Kuroo’s antics, and he positively lights up in response, his grin wide and even. He continues to lurk by the counter, even after Keiji has filed away the cheque, and the transaction is complete.
“You know, this hand cream smells really familiar, do you know where it’s from?” Kuroo suddenly asks, examining his hands with a perplexed expression on his face.
Before Keiji can answer, the owner of the hand cream bursts out of the back room, as if sensing people about to talk about him.
“Ken-chan, where did you put the blue ribbon?” Oikawa calls out as he exits the back room, regardless of the customers. Admittedly, there are only two of them.
“Shit, Oikawa!”
Keiji turns back to Kuroo, who apparently recognizes Oikawa. (And based on the expletives, isn’t too pleased to see him.)
Oikawa whips his head around to face Kuroo, forgetting Kenma and any missing blue ribbon. He strides up to Kuroo, face incredulous. “Kuroo, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Damn, you work here?”
Keiji sighs, forgotten in the face of the more exciting and memorable Oikawa Tooru. He fiddles with his fingers, watching the stand-off of sorts between Kuroo and Oikawa. They know each other, which must be the reason Kuroo thought the hand cream smelled familiar. Although Keiji isn’t sure what that says about the nature of their relationship, that Kuroo knows the scent of Oikawa’s hands so well.
“My father happens to own this store, and all the other Spring Blooms stores around the city! Do you never listen to me when I speak?”
“I try not to.”
“What are you even doing here?”
“Well, I was being helped by your much nicer and prettier coworker, here-”
Oikawa turns to Keiji suddenly, a dramatically worried expression on his face. “Akaashi, had this... person been bothering you? As son of the owner, I have authority to remove him from the premises.”
“No, it’s alright, Oikawa-san. Kuroo-san has been a very well-behaved customer, I’m afraid,” Keiji answers, smiling at Oikawa’s familiar antics.
Oikawa turns back to Kuroo, their melodramatic face-off apparently over. “Seriously though, what are you doing here Kuroo?”
“Just doing a favour for Kou’s mom, since she’s so busy with the other funeral preparations, I offered to get the flowers ordered. I’m glad that I did,” Kuroo says, glancing over at Keiji. The insinuation doesn’t go over Keiji’s head, and he can feel his cheeks heat up again. He’s far too susceptible to Kuroo’s charming honesty, but only because he’s not used to being flirted with. Especially not by such an undeniably attractive person, regardless of his wild hair. It looks almost stylishly done, and based on Oikawa’s lack of comments on it, Kuroo’s hair probably looks like that all the time.
Wait. “Kou”. Kuroo had just said the name of the mystery texter’s friend. It could just be a coincidence, but the mystery texter’s friend’s grandmother had just died, so a funeral wouldn’t be out of the question. Keiji feels the colour drain from his face, and he stares with horror as Kuroo and Oikawa continue talking.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t be cute Kuroo. How dare you hit on my friends. First Iwa-chan, now this.”
“Hey, you can’t blame me for trying with Iwaizumi,” Kuroo says, shrugging with a grin. “Besides, that was years ago. I know now that mere mortals could never tear you two apart.”
“Oh, shut up Kuroo. Keiji, I’m sorry to throw you to the wolves like this, but I have to protect Kenma from the advances of this… emo cockatoo. Fuck anything with a nice ass he would, and I won’t let him have Kenma.”
Oikawa bustles off towards Kenma, who is still talking with the older gentleman, draping himself over Kenma’s shoulders and smoothly joining the conversation. Keiji turns back to Kuroo, an apologetic expression on his face.
“May I ask how do you know Oikawa-san?” Keiji finally says.
“Oh, we’re on the same volleyball team. That’s how I know Iwaizumi too. Although I think anyone who knows Oikawa at least knows about Iwaizumi, even if they’ve never met him.”
Keiji smiles at that, knowing first-hand how true it is.
“Well, I have to get going,” Kuroo says, breaking the silence. He draws his sleeve back to look at his watch, and his eyes widen. “Oh, yeah, I really do need to go. I guess- I guess I’ll see you ‘round then, huh?”
“I’d like that,” Keiji replies softly, before waving as Kuroo leaves. “Thank you for shopping at Spring Blooms.”
The bell over the door jingles, and Oikawa appears on the other side of the counter. “How many times do I have to tell you, it sounds like this is a grocery store or something when you say that.”
Kenma and the elderly gentleman approach the counter behind Oikawa, finally holding the perfect bouquet. As Oikawa rings him up, chattering on with him about something or other, Keiji finds himself thinking about the mystery texter again. With Kenma and Oikawa covering the front of the shop, he quickly slips into the back room, and rummages through his bag for his phone. He just wants to look at the messages again. Keiji’s sure there’s something behind his odd fixation and dependence on the messages, something his mother would be all too happy to analyse for him, but it’s something he’d rather not think about too much.
But when he unlocks the screen of his phone, he sees that there are three new messages from the mystery texter, sent this morning. Glancing at the door, as if he’s diffusing a bomb, Keiji opens the conversation, a hopeful feeling in his chest.
Hey, in case you really were concerned, my friend’s okay, just upset I hadn’t been texting him, lol
And don’t worry, I’m not upset w you or anything, o mysterious stranger
This is weird, because you’ve seen text messages where I’ve just absolutely butchered any sense of grammar, but now that I realize I don’t really know you I feel the need to type at least a little politely + properly
Still crouched on the floor, Keiji reads the messages over several times, his chest filling with the warm sensation of reassurance. Then he reads them again, wondering if it could be Kuroo. Oikawa would know. He could ask Oikawa if he knows a “Bokuto Koutaro”, and if “Kou” is one of his nicknames. But Keiji feels the same reluctance, the reluctance to text the mystery texter back, the reluctance to end the mystery. This is about as exciting as Keiji’s life gets. Of course, if it is Kuroo, it wouldn’t be so bad, because the mystery texter did assure Keiji that they’re not upset with him. What if it isn’t Kuroo? What if it all leads to nothing, and he’s getting his hopes up for nothing? Keiji tries to remember the few words he heard when the mystery texter called him, but finds he can’t pin down the voice well enough to know if it was Kuroo’s.
Keiji stands up with a new determination to solve the mystery. “I need to get Kuroo-san’s number.”
“What, that guy with the awful hair who was in here?”
Startled, Keiji spins to see Kenma standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “I figured he was flirting with you. He’s Tooru’s friend, isn’t he?”
“Ah, well... yes, they know each other. They’re on the same volleyball team. I think he might be the mystery texter, he has a friend he called “Kou”, and that friend recently had a death in the family,” Keiji explains, feeling strangely guilty under Kenma’s hard look.
“Oh. I see. Why don’t you just ask Tooru?”
“I wanted to solve the mystery,” Keiji replies, feeling a little sheepish for this flight of fancy.
Kenma seems to consider what Keiji said for a moment. “Why don’t you ask Tooru for this person’s number?”
“I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea…That I’m interested in Kuroo or something.”
“Would it be the wrong idea?” Kenma asks, his stare piercing and unwavering. He doesn’t let Keiji answer, instead continuing, “We should get back to work. Let me see your phone?”
Keiji hands it over silently, sensing that Kenma is upset with him for some reason. Kenma returns to his spot behind the counter, and watches Oikawa help some giggling high school girls, not looking at Keiji. When Oikawa finally returns, Kenma turns to him, extending his hand out towards him.
“Can I see your phone?”
Oikawa hands it over easily, sliding it out of the back pocket of his (Keiji’s) jeans. Kenma unlocks both phones quickly, both Keiji and Oikawa are long used to Kenma getting past their passwords and say nothing to stop him. His golden eyes flick between their phones, his thumbs moving across the screens. Then he looks up and hands them back, both back at their home screens.
“It’s him,” Kenma says, looking pointedly at Keiji.
“Hmm? What’s who?” Oikawa asks, peering at his phone as if it holds the answers.
Kenma turns to look at Oikawa. “Do you know someone called Bokuto Koutaro?”
“Yeah, he’s on my team. He’s actually Kuroo’s best friend, you know. It’s Bokuto’s grandmother who died, that’s why Kuroo was here. You know, you’re totally his type Kenma, now that I think about it,” Oikawa says, tapping his chin in exaggerated contmplation.
“There, mystery solved,” Kenma says, ignoring Oikawa. “Kuroo is the mystery texter.”
Keiji tunes out Oikawa’s response, which is loud and over-the-top. He should have guessed what Kenma was doing, really. And Keiji’s not exactly sure why he didn’t want it to happen. He’s not even sure how he feels about the revelation. He feels like he knows Kuroo better now. It’s a fairly flattering picture too, it’s clear how much Kuroo cares about his friend. Paying no mind to Kenma and Oikawa, Keiji opens a new message, addressed to Kuroo, and pauses. Feeling a little mischievous, he smiles and types out a message.
I’m glad your friend is alright. Again, I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you… Thank you for being so forgiving.
Keiji sends it, and the reply is almost instantaneous, the messages coming quickly after each other.
hey no problem. its kinda embarrassing that u kno so much abt me lol
do you ever think about how periods make you sound so harsh & angry in text messages?? well, not you actually, but me
I don’t know how to text strangers. Like, do I message you all professional, like you’re my professor? Are we similar ages? I’m in college
Unless you don’t want to tell me, a stranger, which is totally understandable
The messages ease off then, and Keiji begins to type back a response, his smile widening.
He only manages to send “I am too”, when he looks up to meet the suspicious brown eyes of Oikawa, peering into his face.
“What are smiling about?” he asks, his eyes narrowing further.
Keiji searches for Kenma, to find him locking up the front door. Glancing at his phone again, Keiji realizes that it’s indeed closing time.
Oikawa leans closer, trying to see Keiji’s phone screen. “I hope you’re smiling because you’re tricking Kuroo. You haven’t told him who you are yet, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“But you’ve been texting him?” Oikawa asks, his eyes lighting up.
Kenma appears beside them, a disapproving look on his face. “Keiji won’t be doing that,” he says with finality, and turns to face Keiji. “If you’re interested in this Kuroo person, you should tell him the situation, not be sneaky and tricky about it. Communication is the key to a successful relationship,” he finishes slowly, giving Oikawa a significant look.
Pouting, Oikawa wanders off to spray the flowers around the shop, leaving Keiji alone with Kenma. Keiji honestly isn’t used to being on the receiving end of wise advice, especially not from Kenma. Not that Kenma doesn’t have wise things to say, only that he tends to keep his nose out of other people’s business. Perhaps Oikawa’s meddlesome nature has been rubbing off on Kenma.
“Are you going to text him? I feel like I’m always going to be bothering you to text someone now.”
“No,” Keiji says, smiling down at Kenma. “I’ll call him.”
Kenma nods, a small smile crossing his face, and he leaves Keiji in favour of criticizing Oikawa’s spraying technique.
Keiji makes a new contact, typing in Kuroo’s name, although he doesn’t know his given name yet, and calls him.
The phone rings twice before Kuroo picks up, and Keiji recognizes his voice this time.
“Hello?”
“Hi. This is sort of a strange coincidence, because we actually met today.” Keiji bites his lip, hoping he didn’t misread any signals. Both Kuroo and Oikawa did explicitly say he was hitting on Keiji, but one can never be too sure. “I’m Akaashi Keiji, from the flower shop. It’s nice to meet you again.”
There is silence on the other end of the line, but Kuroo speaks before Keiji can start to feel too insecure. “Really. Really! You’re not serious. Strange coincidence is right, holy shit! Sorry, I don’t know how you feel about swearing.”
Keiji laughs as Kuroo continues verbalizing his realizations. “I honestly cannot believe this. This must be Oikawa’s fault, are you sure he doesn’t have anything to do with this?”
“Well, he might have guessed that you were the mystery texter, but I didn’t tell him any of the major clues.”
“Okay, never mind, who cares about Oikawa,” Kuroo says, and Keiji looks guiltily over at Oikawa, as if he can hear their conversation, and would be hurt to hear such a thing said. “Wait, you called me the mystery texter? That’s so cute.”
Not sure what to say to that, Keiji stays silent. The silence over the line isn’t exactly optimal, but Keiji can’t find it in himself to say goodbye. He wants to see Kuroo again, and he doesn’t want this to end now. What may have been the beginnings of a crush on the mystery texter seems more real and reasonable, now that there’s a person attached to the words. And a pretty attractive person at that. He was, rather sensibly, wearing a lot of layers earlier today, but Keiji knows Kuroo plays volleyball now, meaning his body can’t be all that poorly to look at. What Keiji wants to see again the most is his smile, the lazy grin that spreads across his face. He is brought back to the present by Kuroo’s laugh crackling over the line.
“Hey, look, I know this is might be kind of weird, but I feel a little more justified because we have this sort of connection. I mean, technically, you’ve known me for almost a month now, so. Would you like to go out? Not necessarily a date, unless you’d like it to be. You strike me as a guy who likes coffee, so maybe we should get some?”
Keiji smiles. “I’d like that.”